


Dark Omens

by The_Magic_Rat



Series: Dark Omens [1]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:27:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23695399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Magic_Rat/pseuds/The_Magic_Rat
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale are sick, and all Hell's breaking loose.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Series: Dark Omens [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1720435
Comments: 13
Kudos: 68





	Dark Omens

**Author's Note:**

> The bit about Gabe's pants credited to the Pointy Eared Bow Twanger. Without whom, nothing gets done.

Good Omens - Dark Omens

Author: The Magic Rat  
Rating: PG  
Pairings: Crowley/Aziraphale, Gabriel/Beelzebub  
Warnings: Rough sex  
Word Count: 2623

Website – Ex Libris: http://www.winter-wood.net/ex-libris/index.html  
Live Journal: http://delaese.livejournal.com/profile

Disclaimer: All Good Omens characters, places and situations are the property of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, and are used without permission and without intent of plagiarism or profit. Copyright for all stories and original characters is with the author, and may not be published, copied, distributed or archived without the author's prior written consent.

Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale are sick, and all Hell's breaking loose.

Author’s notes: The bit about Gabe's pants credited to the Pointy Eared Bow Twanger. Without whom, nothing gets done.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Crowley and Aziraphale sat up on Aziraphale's large bed, each wheezing, each gazing at each other in confusion. Crowley coughed wetly.

"Why are we sick?"

Aziraphale closed his eyes, fighting an urge to vomit. "Because apparently we are susceptible to ailments and viruses that inhabit each other's respective places of origin."

"Never would have thought Heaven would have viruses." Pause. "I hate this."

"It will pass, dear boy."

"Is this how mortals feel when they have the flu?"

"Very similar, I imagine."

"Well I hate it. I've tried a miracle three times to make it go away, and the last one actually made it worse."

He coughed heavily into a handkerchief, gagging up a sizable glob of mucus. Aziraphale lost the battle against vomiting and limped as quickly into the bathroom as he was able. Crowley threw the handkerchief into a small bin and flopped onto his back, groaning. After a few minutes, Aziraphale shuffled back into the room and returned to bed. The pair lay on their backs and stared at the ceiling. 

"I always pictured our first time in bed together more fun," said Aziraphale. Crowley looked at him.

"You wanted to go to bed with me?"

"For ages."

Crowley didn't ask why they hadn't - he knew why. If they'd been caught, they would have been executed. But he grinned happily, and reached out to take Aziraphale's hand.

"There is one thing to be said about our first time in bed together," said Crowley.

"What's that?"

"It is very distinctly..."us". I don't know how else to describe it."

Aziraphale squeezed his hand. "It is." He glanced at Crowley. "Are you shivering?"

"A little. I'm cold."

"You're probably running a fever, let me get you a..."

Aziraphale turned green, got out of bed, and went for the bathroom. Crowley pulled the covers up higher.

"Well since you're getting up anyway," he said.

Aziraphale returned after a little while, somewhat grey, and carrying a heating pad for his favourite snake. Crowley hugged it gratefully, smiling as Aziraphale cuddled up. The pair snuggled close together, holding each other.

"Don't get too thin," said Crowley. "You're my soft angel."

"Well if I do, we'll just have to go to that place that serves the chocolate lava cake."

"Oh and the lamb tartar."

"Yes I do seem to recall you liking it very much."

"It was obscenely delicious," Crowley said. 

He shivered, and rolled onto his side, curling around the heating pad. Aziraphale moved close to spoon him, cuddling him tightly. All was well for a few minutes, then Crowley began coughing hard. 

"Poor dear," said Aziraphale, "I think you've got the worst of whatever this is."

Then he had to get out of bed and run to the bathroom again.

"I do," Crowley mewled. "Because I'm cold and you're off again."

"Be right back," croaked the angel.

Crowley sighed, then tried to get up and go to Aziraphale. He couldn't. He was too weak and shaky. He allowed himself to turn into his serpent form, and slithered into the bathroom.

"Are you all right?"

Aziraphale heaved and retched. "Peachy."

Crowley watched his angel suffer, trying to think what mortals did in these situations. If only he wasn't so cold...

Aziraphale was too sick to care about his appearance, or decorum for that matter. He poured a deep bubble bath, tossed off his nightshirt, picked up his snaky boyfriend, and stepped into the old claw-foot tub. Being careful not to get Crowley's head wet, he sank into the warm, fragrant water. There. That was better. He was tired of feeling greasy and nasty from being sick. He looked down at the broad snake head staring at him from out of the bubbles.

"Better?"

The tongue flicked. "Not quite how I pictured our first time naked in a bath together, but yes."

Aziraphale gently stroked him. "Nor I, but you're cold and I'm...icky. If only I knew how..."

"Ginger!" said Crowley. "Mortals eat ginger to settle a stomach."

"Do they? I'll have to try that. Anything at this point, I'm reasonably certain the last thing I vomited up was some oysters I ate back in Rome."

Aziraphale used a miracle to make two cups of tea; one ginger, lemon and honey, one of willow bark, the same thing aspirin was made of, to lower Crowley's fever. The pair soaked in the bath, sipping tea.

"Feeling any better?" Crowley asked after a while.

"A little, yes. You?"

"Not sure."

"Ready for bed?"

"Soon."

They relaxed in the bath, Aziraphale idly stroking Crowley's head, the pair enjoying the closeness as their respective symptoms eased. In the bedroom adjoining the bathroom, they heard something fall over. Crowley raised his head, curious, as Aziraphale summoned the strength to call out.

"Millicent is that you?"

Millicent was a young angel who had made it her business to check in on the pair from time to time, likely without Gabriel's knowledge. But as they listened, there was no response.

"Millicent?" inquired Aziraphale once more. Again there was silence. "Must be a mouse," he decided.

They relaxed in the tub a while longer. Then, just as Aziraphale was thinking it may be time to get out, Crowley raised his head once more. The angel watched as the demon flicked out his tongue, slowly moving it up and down for a rather long period of time before drawing it back in. 

"Do you smell something?" asked Aziraphale.

Crowley repeated the action, long tongue moving up and down before retracting. "I thought I did. I suppose not." He looked to Aziraphale. "All right, cover me, I'm getting out."

Aziraphale kissed the end of Crowley's nose, and watched as the great serpent began exiting the bath, his body seemingly going on forever. He slithered into the bedroom, while Aziraphale pulled the plug and carefully got out of the water. He felt very weak, and moved slowly, not wanting to fall. Finally, dressed in a clean nightshirt, he slipped into bed next to Crowley and cuddled the large snake. Sleepily Aziraphale watched the sun go down, and finally drifted into some much-needed sleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Aziraphale opened his eyes, and saw Gabriel standing at the foot of his bed, just staring at him. Instinctively he reached for Crowley, but his favourite demon was still asleep, curled into a tight ball on top of the heating pad. Aziraphale looked back to Gabriel.

"Why are you here?"

Gabriel continued to stare and say nothing as Aziraphale struggled into a seated position.

"Gabriel, if you have something to say then please say it and be done. We're not well, and..."

Aziraphale watched in utter horror as the archangel suddenly collapsed into a pile of rotting meat on the floor, screaming in agony. Then Aziraphale abruptly woke up, gasping and looking around. It was late, and it was quiet. The only sounds were the quiet ticks of the clock on the mantle, and Crowley's deep, regular breathing. 

Aziraphale got out of bed, picked up his phone, and slowly toddled into the next room so not to awaken Crowley. He closed the bathroom door, sat on the edge of the bath, and phoned the last angel he ever thought he would be calling; Gabriel. After a few rings, it was answered.

"All right, I'm confused, why are you calling me?"

"I just had the most awful nightmare about you! I dreamed you were rotting and dying and screaming and...well call me odd but I wanted to make sure you were all right, DESPITE your attempt to fry me. I won't be getting over that anytime soon."

There was a long pause. "I was...dying?"

"Yes. Horribly."

There was another long pause. Then; "Well thank you for your concern but I'm quite all right."

In the background, a second voice said drowsily; "Just hang up on the little puke and come back to bed."

"Was that Beelzebub?" asked Aziraphale, eyes large in surprise.

The call abruptly ended. Aziraphale was utterly beside himself with disbelief. 

"You..... VERY BAD ANGEL!"

Aziraphale shuffled back into the bedroom, and managed a smile as he saw Millicent standing in the room. She was peering at an enormous ball of serpent. 

"I can't find his head!" she said as Aziraphale carefully slipped back into bed.

"It's in there, somewhere," he said. "Honestly I don't know how he breathes like that, but he insists it's very comfortable."

"I guess if I were a snake, I would think it was also," she said. "I made soup. Did you want some?"

"I suppose I should have a little." He winced. "Every joint in my body hurts."

"You should eat something," agreed Millicent. "Earthly bodies can starve. Well I made a bit of everything..."

She waved her hand, and a truly gigantic spread of food appeared on a table. Aziraphale's eyes grew large.

"Millicent I believe you have over-estimated how much of an appetite I currently have."

"I just didn't know what you'd want. I made Crowley some lamb tartar."

"You have to be more careful!" said Aziraphale. "You don't want Gabriel taking notice of your actions."

"He won't," she said, serving Aziraphale a few small bits of food on a plate. "He's all distracted these days, I've no idea what with. But it must be something very dark and dangerous; I swear I can smell evil on him. In fact he's begun to smell a bit like you."

'Sex with a demon will do that,' thought Aziraphale. "Even so, please be careful. Gabriel may be distracted, but I'm willing to bet Michael is not. It was Michael who caught Crowley and me."

"No Michael is all busy too. Not sure what with. There does seem to be something going on in Heaven, I'm just not sure what."

"Just promise me that you will be careful."

Millicent smiled. "Swear to God." Her large dark eyes brightened as a snake nose emerged from the heap of coils. "Hello Crowley."

Aziraphale set aside his plate, and lowered his head to kiss the nose. "Hello dear boy, how are you feeling?"

The tongue flicked out. "I smell lamb," said the nose. 

"Millicent made you some lamb, but you will have to untangle yourself to eat it."

Crowley hesitated. "I'm cold."

Aziraphale was beginning to get rather concerned about Crowley. He was always cold, and it seemed hard for him to be anything other than a serpent. Aziraphale put some lamb on a fork and held it before the black muzzle. 

"Try a bit, Crowley."

Crowley ate the mouthful, while Aziraphale directed Millicent to a second, larger heating pad. They wrapped Crowley in it and piled covers over him. Then Aziraphale began urging Crowley to eat a little more. He managed a few more bites, then withdrew into his own coils again and went back to sleep. Aziraphale began fussing over him.

"Poor boy. I'm really becoming rather worried about him. He doesn't even seem to have the strength to not be a snake."

"You really love him, don't you?"

"Madly," said Aziraphale. "He is the beat of my heart."

"It's such an odd relationship, though. I mean...you're an angel. He's a demon."

"But that's how love works," said Aziraphale, gazing at the ball of serpent. "We all seem to think that our true love will be perfect, but they won't be. They won't look the way we expect, like the things we think they should, or even share all our sensibilities. You have to love them as they are. Even if you were too stupid to fully understand you have been staring love in the face for six thousand years."

Crowley's tongue flicked out lazily, then slowly withdrew. Aziraphale smiled. 

"I still think it's an odd combination," said Millicent, as Aziraphale slowly sat up and picked up his plate once more.

"I think it's more common than you realize," he said, thinking about his recent conversation with Gabriel.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Gabriel lay on his back on his gigantic white bed, eyes closed, trying to decide if he wanted to wake up or not. Then he felt something stomp its way up his body, march onto the covers covering his neck, and stop. Gabriel opened his eyes and looked up at Beelzebub's gigantic fly.

"I know what you're thinking," he said to the demonic insect. "Don't do it."

The fly ignored him, because it was a fly, and proceeded to poke at his face with its proboscis, as flies were wont to do. Sputtering, Gabriel picked it up and moved it.

"Why do you keep this thing?"

Beside Gabriel lay Beelzebub, facing away from him, half asleep. "Because I like it."

"It's vile!"

"So are you but you don't hear me complaining."

"Well if I'm so awful, then why are you here?"

"The sex is fucking fantastic."

Gabriel allowed a gigantic grin to spread over his face. Then a small fist smacked into his shoulder.

"Don't get cocky."

"Or you'll what?"

The fist smacked him again. He rolled to his side to look at the demon's back. "Now look, I am the arch..."

The fist smacked into his nose, and the fight was on. Gabriel was larger, but Beelzebub was faster, and they each fought as dirty as the other. They punched, bit, and clawed until they fell off the bed and onto the floor, and the sex began in earnest. The fly was very unclear on what was happening, and dove for Gabriel's face, only to be ordered back by its master. Confused by the strange mating rituals, the fly sulked on the bed, biting huge holes in Gabriel's blankets. The pair fucked on the floor like deranged stoats, wings flapping, feathers flying, and were in the middle of a powerful orgasm when Beelzebub's phone began to ring. Dutifully, the fly went to get it, as its master finished mating with the archangel. Still straddling Gabriel and panting, body running with sweat and blood, Beelzebub accepted the phone from the fly.

"This better be good, I'm fucking busy! And vise-versa." Beelzebub listened, then said "I'll be right there."

Beelzebub got up and began grabbing clothes, Gabriel watching his companion.

"What's happening?"

Beelzebub began trying to yank on a pair of pants, which were backwards, inside-out, and belonged to Gabriel. "Hell is being invaded."

"What?! By whom?!"

"Don't know but I've got to get there."

Gabriel got to his feet. "I'll come with you."

"We already played that game."

"I mean I will go with you to Hell and see what this is all about! Honestly you can be so..."

He stopped talking and sighed heavily as his naked ass was slapped. He used a fast miracle to get cleaned and dressed, and followed Beelzebub as the diminutive prince of Hell walked out of the room, pants on but open, yanking on a shirt, socks held firmly in place with teeth, and the fly dutifully carrying the royal shoes.

'I slept with that,' Gabriel thought. 'And I'm not proud of it. But damn it was fun.'


End file.
